Priestess of the Corn
by Parisidea
Summary: Rachel's story, from her first encounter with He Who Walks Behind the Rows, through her mutiny with Malachai.
1. The Calling

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rachel, Malachi, Isaac, or anything else related to Children of the Corn. (If I owned Malachi, would I be bothering with this?) **

Rachel stood staring, with wide eyes and dropped jaw, for several minutes after He disappeared. Had she bothered to turn her head, she would have noticed that everyone around her was doing the same. The cornfield had returned to normal, and, yet, it hadn't. It never would.

She shook her head quickly, trying to regain her senses. It wasn't that she hadn't believed Isaac's teachings before - she had been the firmest believer, other than Malachi, of course. It was just that it had all seemed so…abstract. But now, the sight of He Who Walks Behind the Rows was burned into her mind. The changes would begin soon.

"Well, my children." Rachel turned to face Isaac and nudged several others near her to do likewise. Isaac shot a glance at her; perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he seemed pleased with Rachel. "You have now seen our Lord, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, and I assume you understand His greatness. Therefore, go forth, and prepare to fulfill His word. We shall reconvene on the next Sabbath."

The children slowly began to disperse. Rachel felt a bit cheated, almost as if there should be more, but was resigned to wait until the time came to learn more about their mission. She cringed, stretching her shoulders back - it had been a long meeting. As she straightened up, trying to think of a good lie in case her parents asked her about the day's sermon, Isaac approached her, a calm smile on his face.

"Rachel. Please stay a few minutes longer; I wish to speak with the two of you." She was about to ask who else he meant, but she quickly noticed Malachi, watching them from a few feet away. Of course, she thought; Malachi was a strong boy who seemed to hang on Isaac's every word, and it made sense that Isaac would want him to remain. But why her?

Isaac had been holding these sermons every Sunday since the beginning of the summer. The first time, Rachel had only gone out of curiosity – he was a strange boy, she'd thought. He'd preached on the revival circuit since he was five years old; now, at twelve, he commanded the kind of respect most people didn't get until well into adulthood.

That first Sunday, there had only been a few of them. But each week, the audience grew. As the summer wore on and the drought continued, the people of Gatlin had been only too eager to send their children to pray in the corn; perhaps God would hear them, and take pity on the town.

They were fools. They hadn't understood that their own sins had devastated the corn. But Rachel, who was only thirteen and had a purer soul, understood. Malachi was fourteen, and he understood better than anyone.

* * *

Minutes later, the other children were gone. Isaac motioned for Malachi and Rachel to sit; they obeyed. He looked out into the corn, then back at them, and began to speak.

"I have brought the two of you here because each of you has a very important calling," he began. Rachel's eyes widened. "Malachi." Isaac stood directly in front of the other boy. "Thou hast a spirit of a true disciple, and the strength of a warrior. Thou art called to serve as the enforcer of His word and will. Thy knife shall be ever-stained with the blood of the Unbeliever, and thus, thou shalt protect His children from those who wouldst corrupt them, and shall bring forth many sacrifices for the corn."

Malachi was speechless for a moment; Rachel could see that he was suppressing a grin. He must have realized that Isaac was waiting for a response, for he nodded solemnly and said, "So it shall be done."

Isaac smiled, nodded, and took several steps to his left, stopping in front of the girl. "Rachel." She looked up, her heart thumping.

"Our God must rule, not only by the sword, but also through the faith and devotion of his Children." Something about the way he said that last word… "I have seen the care thou takest with the young ones, and the influence thou hast over them. Thou art called serve as a keeper and teacher of His knowledge. Thou shalt instruct the Children in His ways, and see to it that they learn to obey."

Rachel felt her face grow hot. Surely, Isaac didn't really think _her _worthy? And yet, there she was, sitting to his left as Malachi sat to his right. Well, Isaac was certainly right about Malachi; he would enforce the sacred teachings by any means necessary. And really, all she was being asked to do was to help spread those teachings. She could do it. She was devoted to He Who Walks Behind the Rows, and she would spread that devotion to every child in Gatlin.

She straightened her back and nodded, echoing Malachi's words: "So it shall be done."

Isaac smiled again. "Good. The Lord will bless ye both for your service. And now, children, we may begin laying the plans to carry out His work." He looked out into the field again; Rachel followed his gaze again, but saw nothing unusual. Except, of course, that the corn looked a bit shabby. That would change soon.

"Two weeks from today," Isaac continued, "Gatlin will be cleansed."


	2. The Cleansing

**Author's Note: I didn't think I'd be updating so soon, what with finals coming up, but it helps me de-stress, so it's worth the time. I know my last chapter didn't have much action, and this one will more than make up for it. Please note that I know very little about how a human body reacts to various kinds of violence (nor to I particularly want to), so a few of the gory details might be a little unrealistic. This is the first fic I've ever posted, so review so I can know how I'm doing!**

Rachel stood in the produce section of Main Street Grocery, pretending to look at apples. She remembered a fairy tale she had heard once, about a murderous child who was given the choice between an apple and a knife. He'd chosen the same way as her. _No_, she chided herself silently, _what you are about to do is _not_ murder. It is the will of the Lord._

They had gone over it once more in the before leaving the clearing. The grocery store would be busy on Sunday after church, with all the housewives preparing for their Sunday dinners; the only place more important was the diner, where Malachi was. Isaac would go there first, then continue to the grocery store, where he would signal Rachel. Unless, of course, the screams from the diner carried over, in which case she would begin things immediately, before the adults had a chance to run. Once the store was cleansed, the rest of the group would work their way through the town, while Rachel would head to the church and remove the trappings of the false religion. Afterwards, they would process back to the clearing.

A distant, high-pitched noise caused several shoppers to pause, straining to identify it. They must have thought it was children playing – how ironic – but Rachel couldn't take the chance that they would figure out what it really was. She glanced over at Amos, who had been re-stocking the cheeses a few feet away, and nodded slightly. He calmly put down the brick of cheddar he was holding and moved toward the door. With a simple click, it was locked.

Rachel took a deep breath, turned away from the apples, and pulled a kitchen knife from her purse.

Mrs. Honthorst, who sometimes played bridge with Rachel's mother, stared at the girl, confused.. Rachel didn't give her a chance to find out what was happening. She lifted the knife and drove it between the woman's ribs, above her left breast. Her eyes and mouth opened wide. Rachel pulled the knife away and watched Mrs. Honthorst fall to the floor, blood spurting from her open mouth and chest.

It took a few seconds for the other shoppers to recover from their shock and begin to scream; by then, it was much too late. The Children were descending on them. Rachel saw them all, slitting throats and cracking skulls. The store became a blur of red as Rachel slashed at anything over 19 that moved, drowning out their pleas for mercy with murmured repetitions of Isaac's words: _Gatlin will be cleansed...It is the will of the Lord...a very special calling_

Rachel pulled her knife from the back of her latest victim – a foolish old man who had honestly thought he could make it through the door – and realized that the screaming had stopped. The other Children must have noticed the same thing, for they were looking at her, waiting for the next signal. She held her bloody knife in front of her ceremoniously.

"This once unholy place had been cleansed of the Defilers," she said solemnly. "Go forth, and continue the Cleansing of Gatlin." She turned towards the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open.

Isaac stood on the other side, smiling. "Well done, my Children. The Lord is pleased with you all. Rachel, you may continue to the church. The rest of you: do not stop until every room in this town is searched, and all the impure ones destroyed."

* * *

Rachel stood inside what had been Grace Baptist Church. It was His. The whole town was. She moved slowly toward the organ.

_The Lord will bless ye both for your service..._

Footsteps behind her startled her out of her trance. She turned to face Malachi.

"Praise the Lord," he greeted her.

"Praise God," she responded. She looked at the blood on his clothes and realized that her own were similarly marked. "And so we have succeeded."

"Almost." He smiled, walking closer to her. "The town is not entirely cleansed yet; we must continue to search the houses. But Hansen's was cleansed. And, I presume, Main Street Grocery."

Rachel nodded, feeling herself blush – why? "Yes. The will of the Lord was done before the Unbelievers had a chance to fight back."

His smile widened. "I knew you would not fail. I trust everything will be ready for the procession?"

"Yes. I must finish cleansing the church, and I will meet you outside afterwards, as planned."

"Good. I will continue through the town, and I will gather the Children with as many sacrifices as possible to meet you." He glanced around the church, then back at her, making her squirm. Why was she reacting this way? She would certainly have to become more comfortable around him, considering the amount of time they would need to spend together. She hoped he hadn't noticed; if he did, he showed no sign. "Do you need any help cleansing the church?"

"The organ may prove difficult," she responded without thinking, then immediately wished she hadn't said it. How could he help her destroy the instrument of blasphemy if she could hardly bear having him next to her?

Again, he seemed not to notice her discomfort. "Then I will help you."

They continued toward the organ. "Isaac said we didn't have to destroy it completely, just prevent it from offending the Lord. Maybe we should start with the keys?"

He nodded. As the two of them worked side by side, Malachi close enough for Rachel to feel the heat on his skin, her nervousness faded. _He and I are brother and sister in the Lord. We are called to do the work of He Who Walks Behind the Rows, and we will do just that. I will not be intimidated by his presence._

As they finished the keys and moved on to the stops, she felt brave enough to ask him a question. "I must know, Malachi: my parents...I mean...the ones who..."

"The coffee in Hansen's. I saw them drop myself." He paused his work to look her in the eye. "Would you rather have performed their sacrifice yourself?"

"No." She turned back to the stop she was pulling to avoid his eyes. "I am just glad they are gone and can no longer corrupt me."

Something inside her was scared of her answer. The Something wanted it to be a lie; it wanted Rachel to grieve for her parents and berate herself for her role in their deaths. But her response had been more or less true; she was glad that her old life was gone and her new life could begin.

* * *

The sacrifices were stacked in shopping carts, wheelbarrows, and even little red wagons. Nearly every Child carried sacrifices in this way, following Rachel towards the corn. She led them, with her back straight and the cross she had only finished carving yesterday held high. She could hear the footsteps and whispers of the Children behind her, and the rattling of wheels, and knew the Lord was pleased with her.

She had baby-sat for many of the younger Children; in fact, she remembered, it had been her influence that had persuaded many parents to allow their young sons and daughters to hear Isaac preach. Although her charges had liked her, and generally had fun when she looked after them, they also knew she could be strict when she needed to. Then, it had been trivial things: denying them a forbidden television show or an extra dessert, or demanding that they go to bed promptly at the required time. Now, she would demand that they follow the way of the Lord.

When they reached the clearing, she stopped, still holding the corn crucifix high. The Children began gathering in front of her. Finally, Malachi arrived, with Isaac behind him. The Children fell silent.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, with Malachi and Rachel on either side of him. "My Children," he began, "He Who Walks Behind the Rows has spoken to me, and he is pleased. The town of Gatlin has been cleansed of those who defile the corn. A new era begins today. Therefore, let us give thanks, and praise him."

Rachel recognized her cue and began to chant, in unison with Malachi: "Praise God! Praise the Lord!" The other Children began chanting with them. After half a minute, Isaac raised a hand to silence them.

"Now, we must show our gratitude to the Lord by presenting Him with our sacrifice. Therefore, let us lay the bodies of the Unbelievers in the corn, so that He may bless us with a bountiful harvest."

"Praise God! Praise the Lord!" They all continued chanting like this as they moved the bodies of the adults from their receptacles and onto the ground between the rows.

As he returned to the clearing to fetch another body, Malachi accidentally brushed against a girl of about five or six. The girl gasped, clearly afraid of the knife-weilding teenager. Rachel saw this and approached the girl.

"Do not fear him, Child," she said, taking the girl into her arms. "Malachi would never hurt a good Child, who obeys the will of He Who Walks Behind the Rows. And you _are _a good Child, aren't you?"

The girl nodded quickly, a smile on her face, and skipped off to her friends. The younger children needed to work in groups to accomplish anything. Rachel stood back up and turned to face Malachi, who was also smiling.

"You will teach them well," he said to her.

"Thank you," she said, blushing again. "You will enforce His ways well."

They spoke little the rest of the evening. There would be more time for talk later. Now, their main concern was presenting Him with their sacrifices, but Rachel's actions became almost mechanical as she contemplated the days to come.

A new society would begin.


	3. The Inner Circle

**Author's Note: Sorry for making you wait so long! Thanks to all my readers for being so patient, and a double-thanks to everyone who reviewed. As always, I do not own CotC and am not making any money off this story.**

* * *

"Is that the last one?"

David and Amos had just pushed the eighth crib against the wall. Miriam placed the sleeping infant inside and looked expectantly at Rachel.

"Yes, David; thank you both," said Rachel, smiling. "I suppose we can all rest for a while before dinner time. The others should be back soon."

It was Monday afternoon, the day after the Cleansing. All of the Children had been quite busy; Rachel herself had awoken at daybreak to begin her work. The Children needed to be moved into their new homes near the center of town. Most of them would live in relatively small family groups, consisting mostly of siblings or cousins with one or two other Children who didn't have blood relatives. Isaac would be living in the church basement, where he could be close to the Lord's altars. His inner circle would occupy homes on either side. Malachai would live in the house to the right of the church, with four other older boys. He had hand-picked them for their strength; together, they made up the House of Warriors. They were responsible for protecting the Children of He Who Walks Behind the Rows, and for enforcing his laws.

Rachel had moved into the house on the left, now called the House of Caretakers. She had also chosen four assistants, but their task would be to educate the Children, and to care for the handful of smaller Children who did not have older relatives. It had taken most of the day to get all of the furniture moved into the bedrooms, and they would not be entirely situated for months; still, Rachel was relieved to have such a large part of the work done.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cry from the next room. She quickly went to investigate, the others closely following.

Esther, another of the caretakers, was holding a bawling two year old, jiggling her up and down in a vain attempt to comfort her.

"Mommy…I want my maaaah-meeee!" the little girl sobbed.

"Shh…shh…there now, darling," Esther cooed. "Mommy couldn't take care of you anymore, so she had to go away. We are your family now." She glanced up at Rachel, who was watching from the doorway. "I think I'll take her down to the rocking chair; it calms some of them a little – enough for them to fall asleep, anyway."

David cringed. "Have they been doing this all day?"

"Pretty much," said Esther, stepping into the hallway with the child in tow. "The poor dears; they're too young to understand how lucky they are."

Rachel swallowed her guilt, as was second nature to her now. "Yes, it's hard now, but soon they will know no other way; they will come to love Him as we do and forget their past lives." She followed Esther down the stairs and into the living room. Two small Children were playing, chasing each other around the room and climbing the furniture. Rachel was about to go into the kitchen to scold Abigail for letting them run around unsupervised, when she realized that the tots were not alone in the room.

Malachai and Samuel were sitting on the couch.

Rachel gave a startled gasp. "Oh...I'm sorry; I didn't see you there."

Malachai smiled and stood up. "Think nothing of it. We should've come upstairs sooner, but your friends wanted to show us their little playground." A little boy - Jonah, if Rachel's memory was correct - ran crashing into the redhead, grabbing his legs tightly; Malachai ruffled the Child's hair and turned back to Rachel. "Abigail tells us that dinner will be ready soon."

"Another fifteen minutes, Children!" Abigail called back from the kitchen

"Our first real meal as a family," mused Malachai, staring off into space. "Well, I suppose I should probably see if Isaac is ready. Rachel, will you accompany me to the church?"

There it was again: that odd heat in her face. "Yes, of course. Esther, please look after the little ones until we return."

* * *

"You're very good with children," Rachel commented as the two approached the church. 

Malachai shrugged uncomfortably. "Not really. I'm trying to learn, but..." He opened the door and held it for her.

"Thank you." She smiled shyly as she walked through it. "And you shouldn't sell yourself short. All the children really admire you, even the ones too young to understand why they should."

"Not as much as they admire you. Even my strongest Warriors would..." he trailed off.

"What?"

"Well, they would kill for you. But then, that's why you were chosen."

Rachel lowered her gaze. "Well," she stammered, "They...they wouldn't be doing it for me; they would...they _will_ be killing for Him." Her eyes remained on the floor, but she could somehow sense the slow smile that was forming on Malachai's face. Luckily, the sound of Isaac's footsteps on the basement stairs prevented him but speaking. Both of them turned to face their prophet.

"Greetings, my children," Isaac said as he entered the main church. "Praise God."

"Praise the Lord," they responded in unison.

* * *

"...Praise be upon He Who Walks Behind the Rows, and His blessings on all who serve Him. Amen." Isaac finished his prayer. 

"Amen," the small group echoed. Rachel wondered when he had composed the prayer. Perhaps the Lord had told it to him directly. Either way, she made a mental note to request the text of it so that its use could be spread.

"And so." Isaac smiled benignly; if not for his age, he would have looked like any other small town patriarch at the head of the dinner table. "I trust everyone had a productive day?"

The Caretakers and Warriors murmured in assent. "All of the Children have been moved to their new homes," Malachai reported as he cut his steak.

"All?" Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Including Job and Sarah?"

Everyone looked at Joshua, who had been assigned those particular siblings. "Yes," said Joshua. "They are still not converted to our ways, but they are willing to stay with Hannah and her brother."

Isaac nodded. "Hannah was a very wise choice. She is very devout."

Rachel swallowed her food. "She is perhaps the most devout follower outside of this room. I did consider her actually, as a potential caretaker, but..." she gestured to the four girls sitting on her side of the table.

"But she's already seventeen," finished Deborah.

"False modesty becomes thee not, Deborah," Isaac said, amused. "Rachel chose the four of you based on your ability to care for our youngest Children, and to become the founding mothers of the new faith." No amount of modesty could keep the girls from beaming.

"Hannah will have enough to do with the Children in her charge as it is," remarked Amos.

Abigail frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she is caring for two unbelievers, and her brother certainly does not share her devotion."

Rachel shrugged. "There are quite a few who don't. But I believe that Joseph will be receptive to His ways."

A cry from the adjacent room interrupted them. Miriam sighed and got up from the table.

"You are probably right," Amos conceded. "He - and all those like him - would be fools to close themselves off to He Who Walks Behind the Rows."

"Fools many of them are, my Children," said Isaac. "But we will not fail in instilling deepest devotion in all of them.

* * *

After supper, the boys returned to their own house, and the girls dispersed within theirs. All were tired, but still had work to do that evening. Rachel was giving Isaac a brief tour of the House of Caretakers, and everything seemed to be to his liking. 

When they reached the babies' room - one of two makeshift nurseries on the second floor - Isaac smiled. The infants were fast asleep in their cribs, save for one that was downstairs being rocked by Miriam.

"You see, my child," he said, walking slowly past each crib to look at its occupants. "These sleeping babes are the purest and most holy of us all. They are completely innocent, and yet, the world seeks to corrupt them. That is why He has entrusted me, and I have entrusted you, and you the other caretakers, the great responsibility of preserving their holiness."

"And so it shall be done," she said, bowing her head respectfully. A thought crossed her mind. "Isaac...may I ask you something?"

"You may ask me anything, my most favored daughter."

"That's just it...there are no adults left...so when these Children reach their nineteenth year...I mean, will we need to..."

"You are wondering how we are to continue our community, if we will have a form of marriage."

"Well...yes."

Isaac smiled - a warm, yet surprisingly condescending smile that had nothing to do with Malachai's. "In time. He will tell us when the time is right, and what we are to do. But do not trouble yourself with such things. We have much to do in the near future, and it does a girl of your responsibilities no good to preoccupy herself with a day that may come after her time."

She nodded subserviantly.

Later, though, as she lay in her bed, she couldn't help hoping that that day would come within her time. Perhaps, if it came soon enough, she could be Malachai's wife. It was a sensible match after all, and and Rachel could not deny that her feelings for him went well beyond respect. If they were both devout servants, shouldn't He reward them?

But she knew Isaac was right; there was little time to think of such things now. She needed to focus on her duties, and Malachai on his. Right now, her attraction (she shuddered to think of it that way, but it was true) to him was a weakness. Her discomfort around him would probably pass; if it didn't, it might affect her work, and Isaac would be very angry. And, even though she knew better than to dwell on it, Malachai would never want her then. If she ever wanted him to truly care for her, she had to devote herself entirely to her mission.


	4. The First Test

**Hi! I know, I haven't updated in ages. I guess it's a combination of real life and writer's block, but I'll try to start updating regularly again. As always, I own nothing.**

It was Thursday of the first week that the Children faced their first real test.

They had been eating dinner in Rachel's house, chatting idly about the following weekend's services, when the front door began to rattle. Malachai stood up and rushed to the entryway, knife raised; Rachel cautiously followed.

A group of several Children stood on the front porch, looking terrified.

"What has happened?" asked Malachai.

"The-the false minister... and the chief of police..." sputtered a boy (Rachel thought his name was Simon, or perhaps Silas). "I-I...I don't know how they survived, but..."

"Spit it out, boy!"

"They've returned!"

Rachel heard a collective gasp coming from behind her; the rest of the Caretakers and Warriors had gathered in the entryway. They parted as Isaac entered, looking unfazed.

"Well," said the leader, walking slowly towards the front door. "I had hoped this moment would not come so soon, and yet I am grateful that it did not come sooner."

He had that determined look on his face, the kind he only had when he was revealing the words of the Lord. _Of course_, thought Rachel. _He Who Walks Behind the Rows_ must _have known that something like this would happen eventually_. _But why didn't Isaac warn us before?_

"I had thought that He would wait a bit longer before challenging us in this way," Isaac continued, "but it seems he feels that we are ready now. We should feel honored, really, that He has such confidence in his followers."

"What does he want us to do, then?" asked Malachai; Rachel thought she heard a strain of fear in his voice.

"He would have us protect the purity of His town and His Children. You, Malachai, must lead your warriors into battle. Hunt down these..." he paused, searching for the right word, "outlanders, and bring them to the sacred circle."

"Alive or dead?" piped up Samuel.

"Alive, if it is possible." Isaac turned to Rachel. "And you, my daughter, must protect our most vulnerable Children. The youngest ones will be brought to this house, and all girls who can fight will stay to protect them, unless you are needed elsewhere." He smiled; obviously, he had planned this in advance. "I will proceed to the Circle to ready it for the upcoming sacrifices.

"Let us ask He Who Walks Behind the Rows for the strength to do his work."

Isaac led the now familiar chants, then walked purposefully from the house.

"All right, boys!" yelled Malachai. "We'll go to the house and fetch more weapons." He looked at Rachel. "And we'll bring a few back here, so that our sisters may defend the youngest ones. And then, we will hunt down the Outlanders!"

He raised his knife in the air, and the other boys charged after him. The girls and the young children were left, crowded on the porch and in the entryway, looking at Rachel with wide, expectant eyes. This was it.

"Well, Children, into the living room. Esther, where did you put those extra blankets?"

* * *

Half an hour later, a large group of girls had congregated in the kitchen, while many more roamed the house's other rooms, supervising the young Children and watching the windows for signs of trouble. A few more were still straggling in, holding tightly to their own charges. Hannah, a confident girl of seventeen, pushed her way through the crowd looking frantic.

"Rachel! I can't find Job and Sarah!"

Several girls nearby gasped in alarm. Rachel turned around quickly. "What do you mean, you can't find them? Where were they when you learned of the intruders?"

"I – I'm not sure! I had them all doing chores, and I'd looked for Sarah before I began cooking dinner – she was supposed to help me – but I couldn't find her." She looked down. "They sometimes wander off. I know I need to keep them from doing that, but I've just been so busy, and sometimes it's just easier to do the work myself than to look for them." She looked as if she were near tears.

"It's all right, Hannah," Rachel said soothingly. "You have been given a difficult task, caring for the Unbelievers. No one expects you to have them behaving properly in such a short time."

"Thank you, Rachel – you are most forgiving, as the Lord's chief maiden should be. But when I'd finished cooking, Job and Sarah still had not returned, so I went looking for them, and then I heard the warning..."

Rachel sighed. Only a few days after the Cleansing, and the Unbelievers were already causing trouble. "Do not worry; I am sure the Lord will protect them. Malachai and the others are searching the town, and I have faith that they will find the Outlanders soon. Your children may well turn up in the search as well." She remembered Hannah's brother. "Where is Joseph? Is he with the other boys?"

Hannah nodded. "When we couldn't find them, I sent him to Malachai and came straight here."

"Good. He will most likely tell the Warriors that your little ones are missing, and they will keep an eye out for them – they may even send a separate search party, if they can spare the fighters. The only thing you and I can do right now is stay here and protect the Children until we are told to do otherwise."

These last words, Rachel knew, were as much for herself as for Hannah. How long would it be before Malachai returned?

**A/N: I originally intended this chapter to be longer, but I decided to cut it in half so that I would actually update. More soon, I promise!**


	5. Victory

Several hours later, most of the girls were almost sick with fear and boredom. Rachel had been coming up with small chores to keep them occupied, since most of the small children had fallen asleep, but it did very little good. Several girls had broken dishes, or had stood pushing a rag in small circles over a tabletop or sink, paying little attention to making sure it actually got clean. Since girls from nearly every household in Gatlin were present, Rachel had thought that they might as well work on dividing up food rations, but this just made those with brothers or cousins out in the search party worry that, by the end of the night, they would have one less mouth to feed.

It was thus quite welcome when the young girl who (in theory) was cleaning the kitchen windows suddenly dropped her rag and cried, "Look!"

The girls hurried to the window, parting briefly to allow Rachel through. She peered ahead and saw: dark silhouettes holding torches, moving about the edge of the fields. A wave of murmurs broke out in the small room.

"What does this mean?"

"Is it time for the sacrifice?"

"What if they've lost?"

"What if they're still searching?"

"Dear God! Could the outlanders have gone into the corn?"

Rachel turned and cleared her throat. "All right. We must have faith in our Lord, and in Isaac and in our protectors. We cannot know what is happening right now, but it is our duty to pray that -" She was interrupted by the opening and closing of the back door. "Malachai! Praise the Lord."

Every eye in the room turned quickly to their protector, who was approaching Rachel with a look of triumph on his face. "Praise God."

"Is it time, then? The girls are getting a bit restless."

"Yes, Rachel, it is time. We have brought the Outlanders to the clearing, where they are being prepared for Him. You must bring the Children; it is safe enough now."

"Praise God. Then, are all of our warriors unharmed."

"They are. We actually came upon them in a barn." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I think they were trying to set fire to the corn." She gasped. "But my knife was at the ready. I only had to wound them a bit." He gestured with his right hand, which was still gripping the handle of his hunting knife. The blade shone redder than his hair, and his shirt was soaked with blood and sweat. It clung to his body, making Rachel uneasy.

"So they must be killed in the clearing, then? Is that why you couldn't kill them before."

"Yes. Well, in a way. From what Isaac said, I think that _He_ will come and take them."

Rachel was breathless. "Well, then... do you need anything before the sacrifices start?" She silently cursed herself; what a stupid thing to say! "That is... what I meant was... what are my orders?"

"Your orders are to wake the little ones and take them to the clearing. All must be present." He paused, considering something. "I will wait for you."

* * *

"Do you see him, Children?" sneered Isaac a half-hour later. "Do you see this man who thought his blue garb gave him power? A mere weak vessel, when all is said and done!"

Rachel looked at the man on the cross. He had long since stopped screaming and was now just occasionally whimpering. A few feet away, on another cross, the False Minister was completely silent; Rachel wasn't sure if he had lost consciousness, or was silently praying, in his heretical way. Perhaps he thought that dying in this way made him holy. Or perhaps he knew better; perhaps he had heard the long denunciation of him that Isaac had already given and knew that the Children were right.

"Behold!" Isaac yelled, breaking up Rachel's train of thought. "He Who Walks Behind the Rows has come already. Praise the Lord! Praise God!"

And the chanting began, and continued well after the defilers of the corn had been burnt to husks.

* * *

It was raining the next morning when Rachel woke up. She squinted at her clock: not yet 7:00. Most of the Children would be sleeping in today, since the sacrifices had kept them up quite late. Rachel knew, though, that she wouldn't be getting back to sleep. Ever since she was a little girl, the sound of rain had kept her awake. It was worse now that rain was so rare. Yawning, she pulled herself out of bed.

Once she had washed and dressed, she took an apple from the kitchen and went out to the front porch. She sat on the bench, taking in the sight and smell of damp earth. As she ate her apple, she thought about her upcoming day. Isaac would probably not want to speak with her for at least another hour, so it was as good a time as any to write her chore list. The house was a mess from the previous nights activities. She pulled a pad and pencil from her apron pocket and began jotting things down.

"Good morning, Rachel."

She started, making a line in her writing. "Good morning, Malachai. I see that He has finally brought us some rain."

Malachai smiled, stepping onto the porch near her. "He has brought us more than that today." She looked at him questioningly. "Come. I will show you." He held out a hand; she wiped her own hands on her apron before reluctantly letting him help her up. They were both silent as they walked out to the fields, Rachel walking slightly behind him with her hands firmly at her sides, as if trying do deny the unseemly touch and the feelings that accompanied it.

He turned into the field at the same place they had gone in the night before. They were only a few feet in before he stopped. Malachai looked directly into Rachel's eyes. Then, he reached out and grasped a leaf mere inches from her hair. At first, she did not understand what he was trying to show her, but then, she touched the leaf herself and felt a strange sensation. It was as though she could feel the life flowing back into it. She looked at it again, and her eyes widened.

The entire field around them was turning from a parched yellow to a healthy green.


End file.
